


My Poetic Ramblings

by saturnite0614



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Love Poems, Original Character(s), Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 15:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30125013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturnite0614/pseuds/saturnite0614
Summary: Will any if this be good? Probably not.  Do I understand enough about poetry to properly write it? No. No I do not. This will not be updated regularly and I don't know how to tag this either, so those will change and update.It's original so it's not like anyone really cares that much anyway.
Kudos: 1





	My Poetic Ramblings

I choose to live in a bubble. Why wouldn’t I? Does it make me a bad person? My bubble world looks fragile, but as I lie in bed, her arms wrapped around me, fingers running through my hair, all I see is the shimmering color of my bubble. The harsh light of day, filtered through my bubble’s ever moving walls. Those colors shine on us.

I don’t want to leave my bubble. I want to stay. With her.

She is warm. I look at her like the Moon, with reverence and awe. I receive her like the Sun, her warmth and her giving. I hold her in my mind like the Stars. Her bright nature that I could hold if I reached high enough. I let her embrace me like the dark blanket of Night. 

She gives my bubble everything I need. The perfect ecosystem, controlled all by her. Just her.

I know the world outside my bubble isn’t kind. I lived in it all my life. So, I choose my bubble. I choose my ignorance. Does that make me a bad person? I think I’m human. 

If you could lie in your bubble, your love and your world holding you close, would you choose the same? You could no longer be hurt. You could no longer hurt others.

She holds me in my bubble. No words pass her parted lips.I stare at those lips, they give me my spirit. When she sings, when she whispers, when she breathes. Anything that passes those lips, is my gospel. I feel her breath on my face. It is the breeze that ruffles the flower buds in spring. 

I’m sorry. I’m rambling. Do you want to hear about my injustice unto the world? That I sacrifice the world for my own bliss. 

How can she lie there? My head and soul in her chest, my poison burning into her grace. The Shrike to her Songbird. Should I leave? Do I poison the very bubble she puts herself into maintaining. I should leave. Pop my bubble for her. For her.

The Snake in Her Eden begins to slither out of her embrace. But Eve grips the Snake, she holds on tight. The Snake cannot pop Our Bubble of Eden.


End file.
